


Of Snow and Silence

by Emsiecat



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Erebor Never Fell, Alternate Universe - Middle Earth Setting, Fairy Tale Elements, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Oak and Mistletoe, Romance, Shire AU, Supernatural Elements, winter fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-06 07:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8741386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emsiecat/pseuds/Emsiecat
Summary: HildyJ's 'Oak and Mistletoe' 'verse is one of my very favourite AU's. So, when I discovered I was Hildy's Secret Santa for the 'Have a Happy Hobbit Holiday 2016' challenge, I simply couldn't help but write something set in that very AU.My thoughts with this fic were along the line of: Having regained his senses, perhaps there would be a part of Thorin that truly feared losing them all over again. Now that he had them, it would be a lot worse if he suddenly was devoid of all the good things in life once more, especially because now he had experienced them. Hence, this little scenario was born. What if, even for a moment, Thorin thought he was losing those senses again? What would his thought process be? How would Bilbo help him?I really hope I've done the 'verse justice and not butchered things at all, and I hope you enjoy it, Hildy!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HildyJ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HildyJ/gifts).



If one were to ask Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror what he feared most in this world some years back, he would have had very little to tell. He had always feared for Erebor's prosperity and his family's happiness and safety, but he had feared most of all the sickness that had consumed his grandfather. A sickness or a likeness of it that his father told him he had inherited. 

There was little else for him to fear in those muted 'before' years. The years before his outward wits -his senses- had been restored to him by one, Bilbo Baggins. 

After all, many fears seemed to stem from knowing joy and pleasant experiences, and with every sense Thorin possessed dulled only to notice the bad and the absence thereof, there was little for him to fear losing or missing.

It was not a notion Thorin liked to dwell on overly much. He had been lacking something before, but now he did not. All thanks to Bilbo and his 'witchcraft'… and wouldn't his hobbit just scold him proper if he knew Thorin privately still referred to his talents thusly. 

The scolding would always be accompanied by a poorly hidden smile though, and Thorin had a feeling that Bilbo did not mind the allusions folk in Hobbiton made of him being a witch as much as he tried to insist. 

A notion Thorin _did_ like to dwell on however, was just how fortunate he was. It was a notion that danced through his mind most mornings upon waking and revelling in every sense that had been restored to him. 

The feeling of the warm, sturdy mattress at his back, the scent of the clean bed linen, the sight of dust motes drifting lazily through the morning sunlight streaming through Bag End's round windows, the distant sound of birdsong or the general goings on of other hobbits passing by their home. Then of course, once both he and Bilbo were awake there was breakfast and all the wonderful tastes that came with it.

However, Thorin would be willing to amend his earlier admirations, because as enjoyable as all these things were to experience; it was Bilbo himself who often encompassed his thoughts and senses most. Seemingly, simple things such as Bilbo's soft presence beside him as he slept. Or the spice and clove scent of his hair and skin from the soap he used as he buried his nose in Bilbo's curls, the sight of his face so close to his own in slumber, and the quiet sounds of Bilbo's nonsensical murmurs as he dreamed. And then of course the taste of bitter tea from his lips as Thorin would steal a kiss as Bilbo cooked breakfast. Somehow, all these moments with Bilbo could outshine even the most wondrous new experience and were immeasurably precious to him. 

He was certain Bilbo would blush and splutter should he ever tell him as much though, and so he never had. At least not yet… 

Thorin ruminated over these familiar thoughts, scattered and muzzy from sleep as they were as he turned in bed to cast a bleary eye toward the window in order to judge the time. The light was soft, weak, and chill. Only just dawn then, and considering it was now the dead of winter, he should not be surprised by a lack of sunlight. 

It had been a blessing to return to the Shire when he did. He had managed to experience another Shire summer, filled with the lush greens and vibrant sounds he so well remembered from his last summer here. More than this, he had seen what an autumn in Hobbiton had to offer. The changing colours in the leaves were a beauty quite unsurpassed, the smell of burning foliage on bonfires, of rain in the air, of the crisper, colder breezes from the north. The sound of those leaves beneath his booted feet, all of it was enjoyable. 

Now, he would see his new home in winter. Bilbo had already introduced him to the wonders of a homey log fire, the softness of wool the Shire-folk used for their winter clothes, and the taste of roasted chestnuts, but Thorin was sure there was more still to discover.

Smiling to himself, Thorin reluctantly left the warmth of the bed with the intention of going to look out of the window properly. The light was weak, his earlier assessment still proved true, but there was a strange quality to it that intrigued Thorin; an almost pinkish tinge that drew the eye. 

Taking a moment to make sure that no cold air could creep beneath the blankets and wake Bilbo, Thorin padded quietly across the room and wiped at the misted glass with his dressing gown sleeve. 

White lay beyond.

There had been snow during the night it seemed, heavy too from the look of things. The Shire was covered in a blanket of the stuff as far as the eye could see, and the beginnings of a tremulous sunrise were what had bathed the sky and the fresh snow in a rosy hue . 

Thorin marvelled at it, lips quirking at another new sight to feast upon. The dove grey of the heavy clouds mingled wonderfully with the dusky pinks and whites of sky and snow. Here and there, he could spy the brightly painted doors of snow-covered smials, or the thin spidery branches of leaf-bare trees, stark amongst all the white.      

This was the first time Thorin had truly 'seen' snow. He had spent last winter in Erebor, true enough, but he had been kept so busy with his father's recent passing and the running of a kingdom that he had not even a moment to admire the world beyond the mountain during those months. 

It looked glorious. It was little wonder many a dwarfling became excitable when the snows began back in Erebor. Thorin had never understood it as a child himself. He could only tell that snow was wet, very cold, and an inconvenience for most. Now though, how he could clearly see what his year-mates had so loved about the coming of the colder weather. 

The thrill of excitement over a change in the scenery, the strange fizz in his stomach that came from the knowledge that they were safe inside their cosy home while all else surrounding them was buried by the icy weather. 

It really was something he needed to experience with more than just once sense, he decided resolutely, and so crept from the bedroom as quickly as he was able. 

Not even bothering to put on proper clothes, Thorin merely shoved his feet into his boots by the front door and tightened the knot of his dressing gown over his nightshirt. He wouldn't be long after all, and in no time at all, the dwarf was pulling Bag End's door shut behind him as he stepped out into the frosty air.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Thorin noticed was indeed the cold itself. This at least was familiar to him; something he had been able to feel even before Bilbo worked his magic on him. It near stole the breath from him and he repressed a violent shiver as he stamped his feet and tucked his hands beneath his arms, trying to infuse some measure of warmth back into his already chilled limbs. 

He wasn't sure why, but he had been expecting to feel something, _anything_ other than the familiar old discomfort from that time before. 

He frowned, but tried not to think on it too much, instead trying to turn his attention to the beauty of the scene he had so admired from the bedroom window. 

It was difficult though, what with his teeth determined to chatter. Thorin snorted disdainfully, it was unlike a dwarf to be so affected by these things. Perhaps it was because of his burgeoning senses; maybe they had made him more susceptible to feeling the bad now he was aware of the good. He would have to ask Bilbo once he returned inside. 

It was then that Thorin noticed it though, the silence. Save for the shifting of his own body there was absolute silence out here in the snow. 

That could not be. 

There was _always_ sound in the Shire, always some indefinably good thing to hear, be it bright laughter or the quiet hum of friendly chatter, the song of birds, or the sound of pony hooves along one of the little roads. 

It was never… 

Never like _this_. 

Thorin shivered again, this time less from the cold and more from a tiny niggling sense of foreboding that teased the corners of his mind. 

He could not _feel_ anything good; he could not _hear_ anything good. They had been the last two senses given to him. 

What if?... 

If you asked Thorin _now_ what he feared most, this would be quite prominent amongst the concerns he had developed, a deadening of his newly heightened senses.

To have known what it is to truly taste, see, smell, hear, and touch only to have the ability cruelly ripped away anew. It would perhaps be a kinder fate to have never known, rather than to tease with a year and a half of wonder and then return him to the blankness he had experienced since childhood. 

Surely not, surely he was not… 

The opening and shutting of the door behind him startled Thorin enough to jump, and he turned to find Bilbo staring at him quizzically, sleep rumpled and brows raised in silent question. He had at least thought to dress a little more sensibly than Thorin, and had thrown on his thick winter coat and mittens over his nightshirt and dressing gown. 

He looked no less wonderful for his odd state of dress, but the panicked whirl of Thorin's thoughts simply had to know if that too would last. Touch and hearing had already gone after all.

"Bilbo, please say something- I can't-, I think-" Thorin had stepped forward to grip Bilbo's upper arms, but if the hobbit was alarmed by the sudden motion or the somewhat wild-eyed look his beloved sported, he did not show it. 

"What on earth do you think you're doing coming out here dressed like that," Bilbo chided without a moment's hesitation, and Thorin could have laughed such was his relief. 

Bilbo still sounded like Bilbo, warm, light, and gentle despite his obvious irritation over finding Thorin outside improperly dressed this early in the morning. 

Thorin grinned, relief and joy flooding the momentary panic he had felt, and tugged Bilbo into his arms just to be sure. 

Warmth, softness, every good sensation he attributed to Bilbo was still there. Thorin sighed, burying his nose in the crook of Bilbo's neck, which elicited an offended squeal from the hobbit. 

"You are _freezing_!" 

"My apologies but I thought- I couldn't hear anything. I couldn't feel anything good and-" 

Bilbo stilled, giving up on his attempts to wriggle free in order to lean back and look at Thorin properly, only now noticing the lingering fear in his eyes. 

"You thought you might be losing your senses again?" 

"Yes. It's foolish I know, your cure worked so why would it fade? But I couldn't hear and I panicked." 

Bilbo shook his head and enfolded himself around Thorin despite how chilly the dwarf felt, hoping to offer a measure of comfort. "No, I understand, and it's not foolish at all. It's only natural you should fear losing what you gained." 

They stayed that way for a moment or two before Bilbo's practical mind returned and he stepped back to frown at Thorin and add a little tartly. "Though it's little wonder you can't feel anything good, you're like a block of ice! Come inside and get dressed, then we will sort out this problem." 

Blithely, Thorin allowed himself to be led by the hand back into the warm confines of Bag End, and mused over what 'problem' there could be considering he did in fact still have all his senses. 

It was only as Bilbo ushered a now sensibly dressed Thorin back out onto their front step a short time later that the hobbit explained himself.

"You had a bit of a fright when you thought you might be losing your senses didn't you."

Thorin flushed and frowned, realising how idiotic it all sounded now that he was calmer, but nodded all the same. 

"I read about how healers help folk with fears or anxious dispositions once-" 

"I do not have an anxious disposition-" 

"No, but you were still afraid. Anyway, there is this trick in the book that actually involves the senses oddly enough. I thought maybe you could try it." 

Thorin huffed a bit, but inclined his head towards Bilbo and agreed. "Very well, I suppose it's worth a try." 

"Alright, come and stand next to me and look out over the Shire." 

Thorin did as Bilbo requested and stole a glance at the hobbit by his side, crooking a small smile over how Bilbo's nose barely peeked over the knitted edge of his scarf. "Now what?" 

"Tell me five things you can see." 

Thorin clearly found the idea odd, but did not argue it. Instead, he let his eyes rove over Bilbo for a moment before stating. "A very lovely looking hobbit."

Bilbo snorted and swatted at Thorin's arm, waving a hand off towards the scenery. "I really meant out there, you daft thing." 

"But you are something I could see," Thorin countered. He did turn to look out over Hobbiton, however.

"The snow." Thorin started, his voice taking on that slightly dreamy edge Bilbo so loved of when he saw something new and truly wonderful. "The sun is glinting off it and makes it glitter like ore." 

In the time it had taken for them to go back inside and dress warmly, the clouds had parted somewhat and the sun had climbed higher in the sky. It was reflecting off the snow now and making it fairly sparkle. 

Bilbo smiled. "Good, what else?" 

Thorin chuckled. "Well I keep seeing the breath in front of my face. It is swirling like smoke. I remember the dwarflings back in Erebor used to pretend they were dragons."

"Ah, fauntlings here do the same." 

"There are berries on the bushes over there; they look very pretty amongst all the green and white."

"Holly berries," Bilbo supplied. 

"Ah yes, holly. And over there the lights in the windows of the Green Dragon, it looks quite cosy." 

Bilbo laughed outright. "I suppose you're trying to hint that we visit later?" 

"However did you guess?" Thorin's answering smile was positively impish. 

"You're impossible." Bilbo grinned and ducked his head at the endearing look on Thorin's face before continuing. "Right, that's five things you can see, now tell me four things you can touch." 

Thorin's brow furrowed for a moment as he considered before reaching up to touch his own fur lined coat collar. "The fur of my coat, it's soft." 

Bilbo nodded at his side and Thorin cast about for something else to touch, a little trepidation swooping in his stomach. This had been one of the senses he had feared was lost a mere hour ago, and somehow he still felt a little nervous considering it. 

Turning toward Bag End's door, Thorin ran his fingers almost reverently over the uneven grain of the painted wood and murmured. "The door to our home." 

Determined now, Thorin reached out and scooped up a handful of the snow itself and tried to ignore the numb sensation that was quickly suffusing his fingers, instead willing himself to take note of how the substance truly felt beside merely cold. His eyebrows rose a little as he realised what he could feel amongst the prickling of his chilled skin. "The snow, it's surprisingly soft as well."

"Well yes, until some ruffian scrunches it into a ball and throws it at you, it's not so soft then." 

Any worry Thorin had left fled at that and he snickered at the bitterness tingeing Bilbo's grumbled complaint. "Bad past experience with snowball fights?" 

"Oh yes. _Never_ let a Took challenge you to a snowball fight, they don't fight fair." 

"I'll keep that in mind." 

"One last thing you can touch then."

Thorin smirked, glanced sidelong at Bilbo, and then reached out to smush the little snow still in his hand into Bilbo's hair. The hobbit yelped and cursed as Thorin affectionately ruffled now wet curls, Bilbo glaring up at him petulantly from under his hand. 

"Your hair, _Amrâlimê_. It's very pleasant to touch." 

"Clearly you don't play fair either."

"I've lost time to make up for; you wouldn't begrudge me that, would you?" Thorin's tone was teasing and Bilbo waved him off whilst trying to wipe the snow from his brow. 

"Three things you can hear next, if you please." Bilbo stated without preamble. 

Again, this was another sense Thorin had had trouble with upon first stepping out into the snow this morning. However, now he was calmer he could certainly make out faint but pleasant sounds travelling toward them on the stiff breeze. 

Thorin closed his eyes and listened. "I can hear other hobbits now. Fauntlings probably, they're playing nearby."

"Hm, sledding down the hills no doubt, or else pulling dirty tricks in snowball fights." Bilbo drawled. 

"There's… birds too. Not any song, just calling to one another." 

Beside him, Bilbo tilted his head and listened as well, before catching Thorin's sleeve to gain his attention and point the birds out off towards the horizon. "Over there, a flock of geese." 

Thorin nodded, catching sight of the telltale V they made in the air, their honking cries a counterpoint to the laughter of the fauntlings some way off. Despite the discordance in the sound, it was actually pleasant. 

Thorin floundered for a moment over what else he could possibly hear out in the muffled world the snow had produced, before his eyes found Bag End's doorbell and he rang it with a smile. "Our doorbell." 

"Can't say that's a very pleasant sound to me," Bilbo groused good naturedly.

"I think it sounds very musical." Thorin defended. 

"Two things you can smell next." 

Thorin dutifully tilted his nose to the air and sniffed experimentally. There was not much he could say about the snowy air itself, other than it smelled fresh, not unlike the aftermath of a rainstorm, only colder. He said as much and Bilbo nodded in agreement. 

There was one other thing on the breeze, and Thorin could definitely count this amongst one of his favourite smells, pointing it out to Bilbo. "And someone is baking sweet rolls it seems."

It was true, off down the lane, the smell of baking had just begun to reach them and it was a smell that always made Thorin hungry. 

Bilbo recognised the look on his dwarf's face and hid a smile. A good thing taste was the last then. 

"And finally one thing you can taste." Bilbo had made sure to snag one of the cookies from their jar inside before they came out here and presented it to a grateful looking Thorin, who thoughtfully broke it in half and offered some to Bilbo. 

"I thought you might prefer this to sampling the snow," Bilbo said around a mouthful. 

"Does snow taste of anything? I can't say I've ever thought to ask anyone before." 

"No, it tastes like water." Bilbo laughed, noticing that Thorin looked rather disappointed by that answer. 

"A pity, it almost looks like it should taste sweet, like sugar." 

"Do you really think there would be any snow left in the Shire if it did?" Bilbo teased and Thorin smiled, polishing off his own half of cookie with a satisfied sigh. 

"A valid point… was that all of it then? The trick you said I should try?" 

"Yes, that was it. It's supposed to use your outward wits so that you concentrate on the world around you and not get lost inside your mind and fears. Did it work?" 

"It's a little hard to say as I'm thankfully calmer now than I was earlier anyway… but yes, I think it may have helped. It certainly reassured me that my senses are still fine at least." 

"Good, that's good." 

Feeling decidedly more content than earlier, Thorin stepped into place at Bilbo's back and slipped his arms around the hobbit's waist, resting his chin on still damp hair with a smile. 

"It really does look lovely. Does it last as long as snow in the mountains?"

"No, it's quite unusual for the Shire to get snow at all really. Besides, you say it looks lovely now, but wait until we're stuck shovelling pathways and it all turns to slushy ice, you'll change your mind quickly enough then." 

Thorin ignored the pessimism choosing instead to tickle Bilbo's sides, causing him to squirm even through his layers of clothing. 

"So… sweet rolls first or the Green Dragon?" Thorin asked as casually as possible. 

Bilbo jabbed the dwarf in the ribs with a well-placed elbow and laughed at the breathy 'oomph' Thorin uttered at the treatment. "Sweet rolls are in order first I think, but you can make them this time." 

"That sounds fair, perhaps afterwards we can have a snowball fight before going to the Green Dragon." 

Bilbo snorted in amusement at this but gave Thorin's hands about his waist an affectionate squeeze. "Fine, but no cheating." 

"I would never!" Thorin made a good attempt at sounding innocently affronted, but his façade was quick to disappear as he scooped up another handful of snow and deposited it neatly down the back of Bilbo's coat. 

It is said Bilbo's shriek could be heard down in Bywater.

**Author's Note:**

> The coping technique Bilbo suggests is one I read about online. Since it utilises the five senses, I just thought it was apt :3


End file.
